


The Daughter

by AllannaStone



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: :), Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Gotham ficlet, Multi chaptered ficlet, OMG THE FLOOF, Please R&R!!!, The Daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-17 16:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllannaStone/pseuds/AllannaStone
Summary: Bruce has only one person to remind him of his parents, and he is never letting her go; he had promised his parents that he would never let her go. (I couldn’t find any ficlets like this, so I decided to write my own.)





	1. Chapter 1

            “Oh, come on Tom! It wasn’t that bad!” laughed Martha Wayne, one hand on her son’s shoulder while he walked with both arms wrapped around her waist.

           

            “Eh, I’m agreeing with dad; it was kinda lame,” fifteen year old Bruce Wayne said with a laugh, leaning into his mother’s side more.

           

            “ _Kinda_ lame?” Thomas Wayne asked, his voice mocking surprise.

           

            The three stopped laughing as a masked man suddenly appeared, holding up a gun and pointing it at Bruce.

 

The threat was clear: do what he wanted, or the boy would die.

           

            “Give me your money,” he ordered Thomas gruffly.

           

            “Okay, okay…” Thomas soothed him, fishing into the pocket on his suit and coming with his wallet, which he handed over. “Don’t be scared,” he threw over his shoulder at his wife and son.

 

“The pearls, too!” he ordered the trembling woman, who let go of her son long enough to do as he had told her, her hands shaking violently. She handed over the pearls, pearls falling every which way as the strand broke.

 

**_ BANG! _ **

 

The first gunshot delivered crimson red across the front of Thomas’ nice shirt; he fell, dead before he could hit the ground.

 

**_ BANG! _ **

 

The second gunshot made Martha fall as well, blood seeping from her chest and staining her pretty dress.

 

“ ** _MOM!_** ” Bruce shrieked, unaware of the shooter walking past him and taking flight into the city. He fell to his knees, tears streaking across his face. “No, no, no, no… You can’t die! You only have six more weeks left!”

 

Bruce moved his hands down to where his little sister was currently still growing, his vision blurring as he cried harder.

 

“Please don’t die on me,” he whimpered, bowing his head as his body trembled with violent sobs.


	2. CHAPTER 1

**The Daughter**

**SUMMARY: Bruce has only one person to remind him of his parents, and he is never letting her go; he had promised his parents that he would never let her go. (I couldn’t find any ficlets like this, so I decided to write my own.)**

           

_“Bruce, we need to talk,” Martha Wayne said one night, nearly eight months ago, over dinner._

 

_“Am I in trouble?” the fifteen year old boy asked, pausing with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth._

 

_“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” Thomas laughed, reaching across the table to pat his son’s hand._

 

_“Bruce, do you know how I’ve been violently sick every morning?” Martha was quick to ask, a gentle hand going to rest on her stomach. Bruce nodded, his eyes scrunching up in confusion. “Well, how would you feel about having a little brother or sister?”_

 

_“You mean, you and dad are going to adopt?” Bruce asked, excitement boiling in his stomach; he knew that his parents had all but given up hope of adding another child to the family._

 

_“No, Bruce; we’re not going to adopt,” Thomas chuckled, smiling lovingly at his wife._

 

_It took Bruce a few moments to process what they were saying before a giant grin took over his face. He jumped up, his chair crashing to the ground as he raced over to hug his parents._

 

_“Hi, in there!” he greeted his little brother or sister, a teary smile on his face as he placed his hand over his mother stomach, which he realized, showed the tiniest of bumps. “I’m your big brother; I love you, and nothing bad will ever happen to you. I promise.”_

 

“Master Bruce!”

           

            Young Bruce Wayne couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, where was had been staring at a swaddle newborn, who had been screaming loudly for the past forty- five minutes. The staff at Gotham City Hospital have been nothing short of kind; giving him updates on how his little sister was doing every five minutes (who was brought into the world nearly six weeks too early), talking to him and asking him questions about school and other random subjects, and even shooing away reporters who were trying to get the otherwise focused boy’s attention.

           

            “Master Bruce!” the Wayne family’s butler came to a stop at the young orphan’s side and followed his gaze.

 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Bruce whispered as more tears escaped his already swollen, red eyes. “The doctor told me they got to her just in time; another five minutes and she wouldn’t have made it.”

 

Alfred nodding, having already known this from being updated by an exhausted looking nurse.

 

“You’re alive,” murmured the Englishman, setting aside the duffle bag of fresh clothes and hugging him.

 

“He just…” Bruce hiccupped as two men, one in a dark trench coat, one with a kinder face, began to make his way over towards them. “He just shot them.”

 

“Excuse me?” the brutish man in the trench coat asked, his rough voice clealy trying to be kind, his grizzled appearance making Bruce shrink into Alfred’s side a bit. “I’m Harvey Bullock; this is my partner, James Gordan. We need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind…”

 

“Can it wait until after he had a shower, at least?” Alfred sighed, handing over the duffle bag. “Go get cleaned up; I’ll keep an eye on her.” Bruce did as told to, pausing to smile at his newborn little sister.

 

Ten minutes later, Bruce emerged from the showers, his hair still wet and sticking to his forehead. Dressed in sweatpants and a t- shirt, he quickly made his way back over to the windows of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, where Alfred was conversing to a nurse while the two detectives were chatting in undertones.

 

“Right then,” the brutish man- Harvey- began, his voice rough as he flipped open a pad of paper and took out a pen from his pocket. “First question first- what were you doing out at nine o’ clock at night?”

 

“I wanted to go see a midnight showing of a movie with mom and dad,” Bruce began, his voice quiet as he played with his fingers. “Mom didn’t want to go, saying that she felt like a whale; but I told her that this was our last family outing until after the baby was born.” A shuddering sigh escape his mouth. “I promised her that this would be the last time we went anywhere with her until after my little sister was born.”

 

Harvey glanced up at James, as though pleading for help with the emotional child.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, now,” James soothed, getting down onto level with the crying boy. “It wasn’t your fault, you hear me? You didn’t pull that trigger; you didn’t send that gunman after your parents. _It wasn’t your fault_.”

 

“It might’ve well been…” mumbled the grieving boy as a nurse approached her face lined with tired wrinkles.

 

“I’m so sorry, gentlemen; I know that you’re trying to do your jobs, but only family is allowed at this hour,” she informed them. “However, the coffee shop downstairs is still open, should you need to talk for a bit longer.”

 

“I’m not leaving my little sister!” Bruce firmly said, his dark blue eyes cold with determination.

 

“Master Bruce…” Alfred sighed. “You go on down; I’ll stay up here and keep an eye on her.” Bruce opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off by the Englishman. “Go- the sooner you help them, the sooner they can catch the person who murdered your parents.”

 

Bruce hesitated before nodding, turning to follow the men over towards the elevator.


	3. CHAPTER 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Daughter  
> SUMMARY: Bruce has only one person to remind him of his parents, and he is never letting her go; he had promised his parents that he would never let her go. (I couldn’t find any ficlets like this, so I decided to write my own.)

_“Okay, Bruce; are you ready to see your little brother or sister?” the doctor asked the boy, smiling as the youth nodded eagerly. “Alright, then!”_

_The monitor came to life as a grey blur suddenly appeared on the screen. Bruce stared at it with tears of wonder in his eyes._

_“Okay, now do you want to know the gender?” the doctor asked._

_The Wayne child nodded his head eagerly, his smile only growing bigger._

_“Ma’am?” the doctor asked Martha, who nodded, her eyes filled with nothing but love for her son’s adoration of the child she was carrying. “Congratulation; it’s a little girl.”_

Gordan could tell that Bruce Wayne was antsy. He kept wriggling in his seat, his eyes darting towards the nurse’s station that was situated right outside the hospital coffee shop every few seconds. Harvey had surprised his partner by buying the orphaned boy a hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkled on top; apparently, he did have a soft side.

 

“Okay Bruce, is there anything that you can remember about the shooter? Anything at all that could help us indentify him?” Gordan asked, feeling bad for him; the rookie detective had been just a little bit younger than him when his father was killed in a violent car crash.

 

Bruce shrugged, his hands plating with the untouched hot chocolate.

 

“All that I remember is that his gun was big. And black…” he mumbled, clearly wanting to be back up with his little sister.

 

            Harvey opened his mouth to say something only for Gordan to cut him off.

           

“Okay, that should be it for the moment; if we have any other questions, we’ll contact you, okay?” the young officer smiled kindly, fishing a card from his pocket and handing it over. “If you have anything else you’d like to add, or if you just need to talk, I’m always here for you.”

 

Bruce smiled watery at the unexpected kindness that he had been shown throughout the long night.

 

“Thanks,” he said, standing and slipping the card into his pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Harvey said to him as the three of them stood to leave the coffee shop. “You have my word of honor that we have the best cops on the force working this case; we’ll find the bastard that did this.”

 

Bruce nodded, his eyes glued to the floor as they got into an elevator and rode it up to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on floor six.

 

Bruce automatically made a beeline over to Alfred, who was chatting to a young nurse as the youth came up to them.

 

“How is she?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes going to the still shrieking baby.

 

“She hasn’t stopped crying,” the nurse said, tired circles under her eyes. “At least we know her lungs are functioning…”

 

“Can I hold her?” Bruce asked, spying the two detectives eavesdropping out of the corner of his eye as they asked a doctor a few questions regarding the investigation.

 

“Let me go check with the doctor,” she told him before bustling off towards an older man in a white coat.

 

“Alfred, I want to move her nursery to the bedroom next to mine,” Bruce suddenly said. “I want to be the first to hear her if she needs anything at all.”

 

“I will get right on it as soon as we’re home for the night,” Alfred smiled at his young ward, cleary impressed with his dedication and love for his little sister. He cut off Bruce before he could open his mouth. “If you can hold her, we’ll be heading home directly after. We will return tomorrow morning.”

 

“Yes, Alfred,” the boy mumbled as the nurse returned, a smile on her face.

 

“Good news,” she said, placing a gentle hand onto Bruce’s shoulder and leading him into a small room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

Bruce sat down in one of the chairs where he began to try and wrack his brain for anything that would help identify his parent’s murderer, but came up with a blank.

 

“Here we are,” the nurse said, returning with a wailing bundle in her arms. Bruce wordlessly held out his arms and his little sister was gently placed next to his chest. Immediately, the child’s crying stopped, dwindling down to quiet whimpers and hiccups.

 

“Hey,” Btuce sniffled, suddenly feeling hot tears in his eyes. “My name is Bruce; I’m your big brother.”


End file.
